Bound to Happen
by StriderX
Summary: Jim's eyes were glassy and red; his throat struggling against the lump formed there. Bones choked on a bit of a wry laugh. "I'm a doctor, not a god, Jim." T for mild blood and D-word. NO Slash, brotherly care only.


**A/N:** Right quick, there're a few things I feel compelled to say. One, forgive any spelling errors, please. I could make a million excuses, but, they'd be a waste of words. Two, well it's not my best work and it's not original in the least, but! one of you out there might still find it entertaining. Third, I don't like to curse, but felt I had for for Bones' character. Thanks if you've bothered to read my note. Reviews are nice; either way, thanks for the interest.

**Disclaimer:** not necessary. One cannot own legends...unless of course you're Gene Roddenberry.

* * *

**Bound to Happen  
****By: StriderX**

Captain James Tiberius Kirk had never been a stranger to pain. Bruises, gashes, bullet wounds, even broken bones and ruptured organs. He was used to it. He understood it. And sometimes (although he was careful never to admit it) he even _liked_ it.

Doctor Leonard McCoy, however, was an entirely different story. The man could patch and heal nearly any act of destruction to the human body. More than once he'd found himself covered in someone else's blood after hours of surgery without feeling as much as a tinge. But when it came to the misfiring of his own fleshly nerves, there were few who could feel it _worse_. Sure, he knew all about emotional pain, but the physical malfunction of _his_ body and flesh was not something he'd often been acquainted with. He'd never broken a bone, never been shot; he'd never even had _stitches_ for god's sake.

Of course, he'd been the CMO of the starship _Enterprise_ for five months long enough to realize his perfect record wouldn't last.

It was this thought that teasingly bit at his mind as he collapsed into the mud quaking from shock and an agony he didn't care to describe. Absently, he heard Kirk's voice calling to him. Part of him noted the panicked tone, felt the shaking fingers wrap around his shoulder, cradle his face.

A billion thoughts raced through his medical mind. Was he hurt? How? When? His field bag. Quick. Get Jim to find the hypo—

It next became apparent to McCoy that his _medical mind_ currently occupied a only hair's breadth percent of his brain not currently wailing by _PAIN!!_

Even as his thoughts cried, his back arched involuntarily…anything to get away from the blinding anguish in his bones. Bones. Deafly, his ears caught the words hovering in the air.

"Bones!" Jim cried, desperately. Under his arms, his dearest friend writhed in pain. For Jim, he was in panic. This isn't the way it's supposed to happen. _He_ was the one who was supposed to get shot. Not Bones! Jim's eyes went red and vision blurred when he caught the crimson stain leeching through McCoy's clothes. For a second, he looked up, peering through the dense jungle surrounding them. There was rage in his heart. Who fired that shot?!

As if in answer, a firecracker exploded from the trees and embedded a hailstorm of burning bullets just by Jim's ankles. Briefly, he thought he felt a singe below his right knee, but with the force of his attention toward Sulu, he hardly noticed.

The Asian helmsman had thus far been silent on this journey. It was a routine mission: a small planet they'd made contact with in the past requesting medical assistance. And like always, Dr McCoy and the Captain argued from the transport bay, nonstop into the forest. Part of him found it annoying. Most of him found it amusing. Although they'd only been a _crew_ for six months, they'd become a family almost immediately. Kirk and McCoy: they were the two brothers who fought without breath but were completely inseparable at the end of the day.

The last thing Sulu expected was to see just how deep their bonds actually went. As the second shot flared, the expression on Kirk's face shocked Sulu still. It was rage, fear, horror. And before he could mask it, unabashedly unbridled desperation. Kirk had not to say a word for Sulu to understand. They had to get out. _Now_. With one arm free to help lift McCoy, Sulu swiftly flipped out his communicator and cleared his throat to speak.

McCoy coughed violently as another shot was fired. There was a thin line of blood across his face. Vaguely, he felt the coppery taste in his mouth. If he had the mind, he might've gagged. Instead, his voice lashed out in a harsh cry as his body was pulled all too quickly to a vertical position. He was dizzy, nauseous, and sickeningly weak. Through the pain, he thought he felt his arms held up. There was a slight strain on his shoulders. The consciousness of his mind told him they were standing up. Jim muttered something low. Sulu barked an order he couldn't hear. He knew his eyes were open but there was nothing to see but blinding red.

**

Commander Montgomery Scott nearly jumped out of his chair when Sulu's orders snapped over the comm. Sure, he'd grown used to the _Enterprise_ crew's quick tongues and fiery tempers (it was true, he even _liked_ it) but that particular tone was one he knew meant no good at all.

Furiously working at the controls, "Scotty" honed in on the three familiar lifesigns and locked them in. "Beamin' up," he murmured in his thick accent and pulled on the dials.

Instantly, the transport pad buzzed to life; the glittering of teleporting matter never ceased to amaze him. But in the very instant the dreamy smirk found his face, it was lost (forever, he thought then) at the state of the three men before him. He had to admit, while he'd never been one for much sentimentality, he'd recently found himself growing quite fond of all his crew; his quirky, awkward family.

And to see three of his…_brothers_that were only just that morning as healthy as a good haggis, now leaning and bleeding all over each other…for one of the many times, Scotty let his instincts take over. "Me'ical team to transport bay, _now!"_ he barked into the comm. In the back of his mind he could see the scuffle now going on across the ship.

Jumping out of his chair, Scotty bolted to the pad and helped ease McCoy to the ground. The Doctor was conscious, but only just. He was muttering just under his breath, feverishly begging that the Captain leave him behind. Scotty's heart swelled. McCoy still believed himself to be on that bloody planet.

Scotty watched as Kirk knelt by McCoy's side while anxiously tapping his foot over the delay of the med team.

Placing a hand around the Doctor's face, Kirk gently pulled gaze of the ailing (not _dying) _CMO to meet his own. There was no way to tell whether McCoy could really see him, but chances are high that he _heard_ him.

"Bones, ya'old coot, nobody's leaving you behind. Look around, Bones. We're safe. We're on the _Enterprise_. You're gon'na be okay."

The way Kirk said it, eyes watering and throat tight; despite all the blood staining the white floor, Scotty believed him. McCoy would be okay. He'd be daft if he wasn't.

*

Not a moment too soon, the medical team swooped in and coated the room. Dr. Koherlin was at the fore of the group with Chapel right at his heals.

Nurse Christine Chapel had been with the _Enterprise_ from the start, unlike the energetic Doctor Koherlin. She'd known the Doctor prior to McCoy, but never cared much for him. In fact, she didn't care much for McCoy either until after their first adventure and his…_gruffness_ softened a tad. Now, after spending nearly every day of the last six months with the man...while there was never another human being to irritate her so, there was also never another she respected so. More often then she'd ever admit, she'd struggled within herself: were her feeling those as growing to a brother? or growing to _another_?

There was no time for any of those thoughts then, though. She'd always worried just a little when McCoy was called into the field; always stayed on duty just in case. That day proved to be her worst nightmare come true when Commander Scott yelled over the comm. In the blink of an eye she gathered up everything the team might need (after all, Scott hadn't been so kind as to specify) and took off down the hall with Dr. Koherlin and two orderly's pushing a stretcher.

By time they reached the transport bay, Chapel's heart threatened to stop. There, just off the pad, McCoy was collapsed on the floor, his head in the Captain's lap and life pouring out over the floor. Kirk was telling the doctor he'd be okay. Chapel forced herself not to listen. She had a job to do. She could fall apart later.

Already, as she pulled herself back, Dr. Koherlin had his tricorder passing hastily over McCoy's body. Sulu had stepped back, but the Captain remained carefully behind his friend. He looked to Koherlin, anxious. Koherlin's eyes were plastered to McCoy's. It didn't take long to find the source of the problem.

**

The wounds spreading over McCoy's torso were quite similar to a shotgun blast. Jim did his best not to think about the old adage: '_The more holes, the more souls.'_ Bones _would_ survive this. He _had_ to. In silence as his thoughts raged inside him, Jim helped the orderly's lift McCoy onto the gurney as gently as possible. The Doctor gave little response to this action; Jim's face was not the only that expressed concern.

Koherlin was a good doctor to be sure; one of the best if Academy scores counted for anything. But dealing with the occasional emergency at the Academy Hospital was one thing. Working in the field—on Starfleet's flagship, no less—was an entirely different operation. _Literally._

As their small group ran through the halls to the medical bay, Koherlin focused only on his duty; he carefully avoided all thought of who his patient was. He'd only been a part of the _Enterprise_ crew a month or two, but his respect for this particular crew couldn't be higher. Especially for that of the CMO and Captain. For two misfits, they were a team unlike any other. As he ran the tricorder over McCoy's wounds for the third time, he only prayed he wouldn't be the one to witness them being torn apart.

*

Five hours. _Five hours._ For five hours McCoy had been in surgery…_receiving _surgery. Nurse Chapel, Dr. Koherlin, and a host of other medical staff had been working without letup to save their CMO's life.

Three times they lost him; his heart giving out under the strain.

Three times they brought him back.

Four times Jim thought he'd lose his mind if he had to wait a second more without news. Pacing in the medical bay, his head turned every second to stare at the closed operating room doors. If only he could peer through walls.

Each pass he made, there was a slight sting in his right ankle but he paid it little mind. In fact, the distraction was quite comforting…the slowly growing pain gave his mind something to focus on. _Anything_ to focus on other then the idea of los— no. He couldn't even think it.

This wasn't how it was supposed to be. It was supposed to be _him_ in there…not Bones. Bones was supposed to save _him_…but now, Jim realized, he couldn't do anything to help Bones. Much less _save_ him.

It was another full hour of pacing before the tinge in Jim's leg grew to a throb enough to force him off his feet. In any attempt to distract himself, he gently reached down and pulled up his pant leg. It was at that very moment Spock came up behind him.

"Are you alright, Captain?"

Jim didn't move to respond. He'd heard Spock coming. As he'd expected there were three bleeding wounds about his right ankle much like the ones riddling McCoy's chest. He sighed.

"It shouldn't've happened, Spock," Jim let his head rest wearily in his hands. It'd been thirty-six hours since he'd slept last. "Not to Bones…"

Even through Spock's stoic face, there was worry. _These_ were the first friends he'd ever had. The thought of losing one of them pained his heart, too. He sat in a chair next to Kirk. "There was nothing you could have done, Captain."

Kirk shook his head but didn't reply.

Suddenly, there was a soft _swish_ at the opposite of the room. Instantly, the waiting officers were on their feet wishing only that Koherlin would move faster through the doors.

The young doctor looked exhausted and dejected, but Kirk thought (he _hoped_) he saw a little relief in his eyes.

"Well," Koherlin began with a sigh, stuffing one hand in a pocket and holding up a PADD with the other.

Jim couldn't breathe. _Well? Well?!_

Koherlin smiled. "He'll live."

Instantly a choked gasp something like a sob or a laugh escaped Jim's throat. "Oh thank god," he breathed long and deep.

"Dr. McCoy's injuries are anything but superficial, I'll say that, but thanks to the marvels of modern medicine, he's more or less all patched up. A couple weeks off his feet and he'll be fine," Koherlin truly did smile then. "Of course I reckon getting him to stay _down_'ll be the hard part."

"That is wonderful news, Doctor," Spock's voice was monotone and calm but clearly pleased.

Neither the Commander nor the Doctor thought it was then in their Captain to speak. To look at Jim at that very moment was like looking at a boy who just had the worst day of his life and just found out that his lost dog finally came home. While no one would ever mention it, his eyes were glassy and jaw set in the distinct form of biting back tears.

"Can I see him?" he finally managed, voice tight and rough.

Koherlin nodded but smile dissipated as he peered down. "Yes, on the condition that after you let me treat that leg."

Kirk squirmed a bit. Unfortunately for him Koherlin was turning out to be nearly as observant as Bones. _Bones._ With a curt nod, Kirk left the Doctor and First Officer behind him and rushed (albeit with a slight limp) through the O.R. doors.

**

No matter how much he prepared himself, the sight before Jim was so unexpected it felt more like a dream then reality. Suddenly, the pain in his leg was gone. As he moved through the small room, he felt more like he was floating then actually walking at all. Somewhere, he imagined Bones describing this feeling as '_shock'_.

And somewhere, he agreed with him.

The medical staff took his entry as cue to leave—that along with a quiet nudge from Nurse Chapel. Wearing a small, elegant smile, Christine caught Jim's eye. "Talk to him, Jim. Don't be surprised if he wakes up."

Jim nodded only in reply. His eyes were glued to the occupied bed; his throat struggled against the lump formed there. Absently, his fists clenched and loosened at his sides. As Nurse Chapel left and the door slid closed, he dared to step forward.

McCoy had never looked so helpless to Jim. There was a light sheet covering him from the waist down. He was shirtless, but the bandages around his torso were thicker than any shirt Bones had ever worn. There was a thin tube wrapped from behind his ears and under his nose; _oxygen_, Jim knew. His hair was a little matted from mud and sweat, but his skin was brighter, more _alive_ than the deathly pale Jim had seen last. Jim would always remember: there was much comfort in _that_.

Even so, Jim felt…awkward. He didn't know how to do this _bedside manner_ bit. He could've almost laughed (even if out of want of crying); maybe he did judge Bones' lack-of-it too harshly.

Not knowing what else to do, Jim sat in the chair left (conveniently) by the bed and watched Bones' chest rise and fall.

Seconds passed.

Minutes.

Jim sighed.

"Bones…" he breathed, finally, leaning on the bed. "I'm so sorry…this should never've happened to you. I'm so sorry…" Jim knew he was rambling, but he figured McCoy was asleep. This was something he needed to say and he knew he'd never get it out if the man was awake. "I should've realized it was a trap. I should've been watching closer. It…it should've been me, Bones. I'm so sorry…it should've been me…"

Jim's hands were running through his hair, anxious and frustrated. Old angers he hadn't felt in months began to seep through. He was dizzy, tired, hungry, and his leg burned like Scotty poured whisky over it. There was redness in his eyes and his nose was stuffy. Briefly he thought maybe he was getting a cold.

"Oh Bones…." he sighed and closed his eyes, suddenly exhausted.

"Shud'up Jim, yer givin' me a headache…" a thick southern drawl slowly leaked out.

Instantly Jim's eyes shot open. "Bones! You're awake!"

McCoy winced at Jim's outburst. "Ain't very possible for a man ta' sleep with you ramblin' on like that," his voice was monotone and completely without energy, but certainly not lacking any of the cynical charm everyone was so fond of. Shifting slightly, he cringed with a hiss that stopped Jim's heart for a moment.

The younger officer leapt from his chair and stood next to McCoy, caring hand on his shoulder. "You need me to get Koherlin?"

McCoy tried a chuckle, but it came out a weak sort of cough. "You think he can tell me anythin' I don't already know? I was _shot_, Jim. Generally speaking, shots tend to _hurt_."

Jim forced a smile, but the sudden look of 'kicked puppy' didn't get by Bones for a second. "What is it?" the older man asked (though already knowing the answer).

Jim sighed again, ran a hand through his hair, and paced with his limp. McCoy noticed this, too, but decided against mentioning it for the moment. When it was apparent Jim wasn't going to answer, McCoy rolled his eyes, teeth gritting with lack of patience. "Good god, man, sit down already. Yer' makin' me dizzy."

The expression on Kirk's face was nothing but apologetic. Flopping into the chair, he took a breath. "Bones, I—"

"Don't you go apologizin' again, kid. I heard ya' the first time," Bone's heavy face lightened when the horror that he'd heard Jim's rambles set in. "Look, Jim, don't go thinkin' that way. You got me home."

Bones' cold heart melted at Jim's defeated expression. Jim's hand ran nervously through his hair. "I just…_you're_ never supposed to get hurt, Bones."

McCoy choked a bit of a wry laugh. "I'm a doctor, not a god, Jim. It's bound to happen occasionally…_unfortunately_," he added under his breath.

Jim met McCoy's eyes in almost childish distress. "Is this how you feel when it's one of us on that table?"

Curiously, McCoy's brow lifted. He sighed, hiccupping when the pain took away his breath. Adjusting his breath carefully, he muttered in a strange mix of fondness and angst. "Every damn time, Jim. Every. Damn. Time."

There was a warm silence floating between the two for a time. Unknowningly, both thinking the same thought: _brothers_. The words had never been said, but the bond was surely there.

And as eldest, McCoy felt the intense urge to patronize his exasperating little sibling. "Now. You better let Koherlin fix that leg or else I'll fling a hypo into your neck myself."

Jim laughed. He always did. He couldn't help it. "I'm always up for a good game of duck and run," he threw a wink as McCoy's head shook and eyes rolled. Kirk stood and patted McCoy's hand. "Get some rest, old man."

McCoy muttered a curse in retort as Kirk turned but just as the Captain motioned the doors opened, the elder called out:

"Hey kid," Jim turned. "You're a good captain."

To this Jim smiled and found his eyes watering more then what would be considered 'manly'. His brother was proud of him. In all the world, that was all he needed to hear.

**End.**


End file.
